


The Road This Far (Can't Be Retraced)

by anthologia



Series: To Build a Home [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3735199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthologia/pseuds/anthologia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Redbird’s navigation will tell him where he is from pretty much anywhere in the country, but that doesn’t help him with the hopeless lost feeling in his chest that sank in with the realization that he’s not sure he still has a home to judge his position by. </p><p>“You’d tell me, right?” The wrong words fall out of his mouth, and Tim hates how tiny and vulnerable he sounds right now. “If there was something… wrong with me?”</p><p>(Sequel to "Eventually Have To Explode". Tim goes to his big brother after leaving his dad.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so. CONTINUING THE FEELS, Tim goes to see Dick after he leaves his house. 
> 
> Slight possibility this is going to get turned into a Thing where Tim's living arrangements change drastically and he gets a shiny, not-really-that-new family to help him figure out how to move forward.
> 
> Fic title from the Mountain Goats' "Tallahassee", series title from the Cinematic Orchestra's "To Build a Home".

Tim’s spent an hour driving before he thinks he can pull off to the side of the road and call Dick without shattering back into a thousand little pieces. He grabs his phone like it’s a normal call, just saying hi, and his hands don’t even shake when he punches in Dick’s number. He’s fine. He’s _fine_. “Dick?”

 _“Hey, Tim_. _What’s up?_ ” Dick sounds distracted. Tim hears the sound of something being poured into a bowl and wonders if he’s making dinner or something. Tim wasn’t paying attention to what time it was when he left.

Tim must be quieter for longer than he thought, because Dick stops whatever he’s doing and prompts him again. “ _Tim? Are you still there?”_

Is he still there? Where is he? Tim suddenly realizes he wasn’t even paying attention to where he was driving. The Redbird’s navigation will tell him where he is from pretty much anywhere in the country, but that doesn’t help him with the hopeless _lost_ feeling in his chest that sank in with the realization that he’s not sure he still has a home to judge his position by.

_“Are you okay? Do you need help?”_

“You’d tell me, right?” The wrong words fall out of his mouth, and Tim _hates_ how tiny and vulnerable he sounds right now. “If there was something… wrong with me?”

 _“Tim.”_ Tim closes his eyes and imagines the way Dick probably looks right now from the way his voice sounds. Putting the bowl down if he hadn’t already, his gaze gentle but intent, confused, maybe a little worried. _“Of course there’s nothing **wrong** with you, Jesus. Are you – did something happen?”_

Someone laughs, and it takes Tim a second to realize the sound’s coming from his mouth. _God_. He thought he was… better, more together than this. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Something happened.”

 _“Do you need me to – no, just tell me where you are, I’ll come pick you up.”_ It occurs to Tim that he probably sounds awful to Dick right now. Slow response times, disjointed communication. Like he’s in shock.

Is he in shock? Do people go into shock when they run away from home? Is that something he should have researched? His brain feels far away, but at least his mouth is still invested in this conversation. “I have the Redbird.”

_“Are you okay to drive? You sound like you’re hurt. **Are** you hurt? Was there a fight?”_

Tim must take too long to answer again, because Dick sounds like he’s on the edge of panicking. _“Timmy, please. Tell me what’s happening. I can’t help you unless I know what’s going on, Babybird.”_

“I’ll see you soon,” Tim says and hangs up because if he keeps talking to Dick, he’s going to do something he won’t be able to take back. Like start crying.

Tim climbs into the backseat of the Redbird and lies there until he feels like he can drive again.

 

When he gets to Dick’s apartment, Dick has the door thrown open practically before Tim finishes the first knock. He takes a firm hold of Tim’s shoulders and looks him over for a long moment before heaving out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t find any visible injuries. “Thank _god_. It’s been hours since you called me, Tim, where were you? I tried to talk to Bruce but Alfred said he was out of town and you hadn’t been around since a few days ago.”

“I’m not okay,” Tim blurts out before he can shove the words back down his throat with his usual mantra of e _verything’s fine I’m fine don’t worry about me_.

Dick only freezes for a fraction of a second before he pulls Tim forward into a hug. It feels _safe_ , and for some reason Tim thinks about how his three-year-old self would have been so thrilled to get the chance to see Dick again, be hugged by him. It would have been a dream come true.

Dick is maneuvering them through his apartment to the couch, where he sits them both down on the cushions. Tim waits passively, lets Dick fuss and arrange the two of them until there’s a blanket half-covering them both and Tim is tucked away safely in Dick’s hold again. “All right,” Dick says quietly. “Tell me what happened.”

“I left my dad.” It sounds ridiculous when he says it like that, like Tim broke up with his father. Maybe he kind of did. Wasn’t that what break-ups were about? Saying “ _sorry, this relationship just isn’t working for me anymore. Have a nice life_ ”?

Dick’s fingers are carding through Tim’s hair soothingly. “Did you have a fight?”

“I. Sort of.” He’s doing that thing again, taking inappropriate amounts of time to respond, but at least Dick is _right there_ this time and content to just be quiet and let Tim figure out his thoughts. “He was out on business for a couple days. And he forgot to tell me.” Dick’s fingers still for a second before resuming their gentle motions. “He left me a message yesterday to let me know where he was, and I just. I realized I was tired of it. Him telling me he was going to try harder to be my dad and then just… getting distracted. So I told him. I told him that he never actually wanted a kid, not a _real_ one, and that I didn’t think I could keep trying to pretend anymore.”

“ _Tim_ ,” Dick says, and it sounds like something deep and vital in him is breaking on Tim’s behalf – Dick’s always been generous with his heart like that.

“He said he loved me and was proud of me, and I pretty much said – “ Tim feels an ugly little twist in his chest. “Too little, too late.” Before Dick can react, Tim’s shifting so he can _look_ at Dick, ask him a question and see his eyes. “Dick. You _have_ to tell me the truth. _Is_ there something wrong with me?”

He can see in Dick’s face that he’s just going to repeat the same answer he gave Tim earlier, so Tim covers his mouth with a hand. “ _Don’t_. Not until I’m done.” He worries his bottom lip while he tries to think of the right words. “People… people don’t _like_ me. Or they do, but it’s not enough to make them want to _stay_. Or. Or maybe they just decide they don’t anymore. I acted like it was my dad’s fault, but what if it’s _mine?_ What if, what if there’s just something broken in me? I couldn’t get my parents to pay attention to me, Dick. _My parents_. If _they_ figured it out from the beginning, then… what chance did I ever have with anyone else?”

It feels like Tim just _blinks_ and Dick’s twisted the two of them around, gotten his hands on Tim’s face and is tilting his head up so Tim can’t not look Dick in the eyes unless he shuts his own. “Tim, you. _You_.” Dick rests his forehead against Tim’s for a few beats before pulling back to look at him again. “You are _perfect_. Okay? You are an amazing kid and a concerningly good stalker and pretty much the best Robin we could ever ask for. You _figured out Batman’s identity_ when you were _nine_. You’re incredibly bright and way better at being a detective that I probably ever will be, and you take _brilliant_ pictures that you should really pay more attention to because the Timothy Drake Photo Exhibit is pretty bare right now and the fans are getting restless.”

Tim opens his mouth to say something, point out the counter-arguments to Dick’s claims, but Dick won’t let him.

“Look, I don’t want to insult Jack because he’s your _dad_ , but. If he sees any of this and isn’t constantly thanking some kind of deity for getting to have you, then he’s an idiot. Just. God. _There is nothing wrong with you_.”

Tim bites his lower lip while he thinks over Dick’s words carefully. He has to ask this, even if he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. “If I wasn’t… if I quit being Robin tomorrow, or, or – if I wasn’t Robin in the first place… would you? Have liked me?”

“ _Tim_ ,” Dick says again, like he’s trying to stuff seventeen different kinds of meanings into that one word. “I _did_ meet you before either of us was Robin, remember? I did a quadruple somersault for you. Do you think I would have done that if I _didn’t_ like you?”

Tim manages to hold himself together for almost half a minute before he just… c _rumples_ , all the frustration and confusion and _hurt_ he feels coalescing into these first few breathless sobs. Dick just holds him close again while Tim cries himself out, finally gives himself permission to _feel_ all the times he felt lost or alone or abandoned by the people who were supposed to love him more than anything else in the world.

By the time his tears dry up, he’s exhausted. Dick re-arranges them so Tim’s lying on the couch with his head in Dick’s lap and starts petting Tim’s hair again. Tim can’t keep his eyes open, but Dick must not mind because he feels the soft brush of dry lips against his forehead and hears Dick’s voice saying, gently, “Sleep, little brother. It’s going to be okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wakes up in time to eavesdrop on Dick talking to Jack.

Dick must have put him to bed at some point, because Tim wakes up in Dick’s bedroom, wrapped up in blankets with the light turned off and the door opened a crack. It takes him a little while to run through his mental checklist (where is he, why is he here, what happened), and then the memories filter in. Fighting with his dad, walking out. Ending up at Dick’s apartment.

He can only just hear Dick talking to someone in the next room – no, on the phone with someone. There’s no voice answering him, but Dick’s having a conversation. Tim slips out of bed and cracks the door open a little further so he can hear.

“ – No, _you_ don’t understand. _You_ screwed up, and Tim thinks it’s _his_ fault. He asked me if there was something wrong with _him_.”

Oh no.

“Yeah, he ran _here_. Cause he feels like someone actually _wants him around_ here. Look, anything I tell you is just going to be me telling you what you already know, because Tim _already told you himself._ ”

Oh _god_ no. Tim wants to stop this conversation, run out and knock the phone out of Dick’s hand or something, but he’s frozen in place.

“I’m not going to force him to go back to you just because _you_ want to talk, Jack. What about what _Tim_ wants? Think about him instead of you for once. He was so upset that he ran away. If you force him to come back now, do you really think he’s going to stick around? We both know it’s almost impossible to keep him somewhere he doesn’t want to be. And if he can’t trust _me_ , where’s he going to go next?”

Somewhere not here, Tim thinks. Maybe Stephanie. She probably wouldn’t rat him out, but – Bruce would know to look at her place. If he couldn’t count on Dick, he couldn’t count on Bruce, either. He’d have to leave the Redbird behind. He has cash and at least one fake ID on hand. He’d leave the city, maybe find a hotel. It’s not like he’s never managed to book a room on his own before.

“Just give him a few days, okay? It would give you _both_ some time to think. I’ll keep an eye on him, and we can re-evaluate then.”

Tim suddenly realizes his hands have tensed into fists. He forces them to unclench.

“Yeah, it’s always great talking to you, too, Jack,” Dick says in that voice he uses when he really wants to say something like _you absolute fucker._ “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

Tim’s already pushing the door open, padding silently to the living room where Dick’s just sat down on the couch. He’s not surprised to see Tim there. “How much did you hear?”

Tim shrugs. Enough of it. “What did he say?”

“You can stay here at least tonight. Not sure about tomorrow.” Dick sighs heavily before straightening up so he can look Tim in the eye. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Sure you are.” Dick rolls his eyes and tugs Tim onto the couch, purposefully unbalancing him so he falls into Dick’s side for a one-armed hug. “We don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to. I have a Netflix queue and lots of popcorn.”

That sounds about as good to Tim as anything else right now. “Sure.”

“Good,” Dick lets out a relieved breath like that was the answer to some kind of huge, important question instead of just an agreement to sit around and veg out. They’ve just settled on something ridiculous from the 90s to watch when Dick hits pause before the movie can actually start. “You know you’re always welcome here, right? Even if you just want to hang out.”

Tim blinks, not really sure where that came from. “Yes?”

“Okay. I just wanted to be sure you know that.” There’s another silence full of Dick fidgeting. “I just – even if you feel like you have to run, I don’t want you to run from me.”

 _Oh_. Tim suddenly feels kind of bad about his half-formed plans for if he needed to slip past Nightwing and Batman. “If it helps, I don’t want to either?” he offers.

He guesses that was at least not the absolute worst thing to say, because Dick kind of smiles and squeezes Tim tighter against his side before relaxing his hold. “Cool. Okay.”

They spend most of the next few hours making jokes about the special effects, and it’s… good. It makes Tim feel, for the first time since this started, like maybe they’ll figure out a way forward.


End file.
